No matter how hard I try to run from it, it follows me everywhere. I'm not doing a great job of navigating grief. I wake up sad most mornings. And, then, I remember. My grandson is gone. It hits like a tidal wave. I try hard to reign in my emotions, take a few deep breaths, talk myself out of crying, and get up and start my day. I do pretty well for the first hour or so. However, as reality sets in, with the help of coffee, my memory wakes up, and the tears begin to flow.
I am a planner by nature, and now planning has become the focus of my life. I plan my days away to be busy; I must keep my brain occupied. I now make plans for almost every minute of every day. It can be simple things—TV, coffee, reading, meeting up with friends—just anything to fill in the blank void of my mind and, yes, even my heart. Being busy is what I need right now to navigate my walk through grief.
Grief is strange. It's always there, a never-ending sadness that never goes away. It sneaks up on me, waits behind corners, jumps out to scare me, wakes me up at night, and invades my thoughts. When I think I feel a tad stronger, it punches me in the gut again—a never-ending blow. I am convinced this is my new normal: stay busy, prepare for the gut punch, accept sadness, get through each day, and repeat.
What is normal anyway? A regular life? A typical life? Is that what my daughter living in now? Just what is normal? I've only lost a grandson; she's lost a son. I think sometimes what it would be like if it had been one of my own children who had died and not a grandchild. I honestly can't imagine the pain worsening, but would it be? Could it be? How much pain is a person supposed to endure? What is considered the normal amount of pain for loss? My heart is breaking, and my pain is not dissipating. It's now been five months. Will it be like this in five years? Will I be able to go on like this? Sometimes, I don't think so.
And now, Christmas is here. I am looking at our Christmas tree, all decorated with lights and ornaments. Our entire house looks like Christmas. We have lights, villages, and lots of European Christmas market decor; it's festive. I thought it would help. It doesn't, but not decorating our home would have made it worse. Here I sit, riding another emotional roller coaster. I'm waiting. Waiting to see if somehow, someway, my spirits are lifted.
I am praying again. I'm not as mad at God as I was a month ago. He and I are coming to an understanding. He is in control, and I just need to understand that. I need to accept it. Bah humbug. I don't want to. I do believe that as I navigate all this horribleness, I will grow in my faith. I have to believe that to survive this. My questions for God this week are--will I survive this? Am I navigating this correctly? Will I do all this grief stuff correctly? Will my daughter? Will we grow closer to God? Will we make it? Will God forgive me for being so mad at Him? So many questions for God. As if He doesn't already know my heart, right?
I am trying. I really am. I am not isolating; I am sharing my feelings and staying in touch with friends and family. I don't hold back. I'm doing all the steps for healing, growing, using the tools, etc.
I am navigating. Sort of. I am trying hard.
No comments:
Post a Comment